On to the Next One
by Pretty.Ink
Summary: Vivianne Clarke is a Black Widow. After her short stint as a WWE Diva, she found herself left with no career, no money, and no power. She quickly found a way to remedy her problems without ever having to leave the company. The men of the WWE became her easy prey. But when the black widow strikes again, she finds herself in a web she may never be able to get out of. Orton/OC/Cena
1. Enter: The Black Widow

"Want one?"

"I don't smoke."

Vivienne shrugged as she lit her cigarette and let a stream of smoke escape her glossed lips.

She was exhausted. She was cold. She was pissed.

She stole a glance at the looming figure beside her, while taking a long drag from her cigarette.

"I have a good thing going here, Orton, and I don't need you to fuck things up for me."

He didn't say anything for a while. His gaze drifted past the cold rain, and the hotel's parking lot. The two of them stood in silence, staring off into the distance. Their eyes never fixed on a target. Their gaze wandered aimlessly against the lonely, dark landscape, speckled with spotlights of a dull yellow from the streetlamps.

"So I'm supposed to sit back and watch while you sleep with my married best friend, for money?"

She snorted before taking another long drag and blowing smoke back out.

"Number one, I never asked you to watch. And number two, he's not married, he's engaged." She flicked the cigarette onto the wet pavement below her, and crushed it with her heel. She found a slight satisfaction from grinding the smoldering cigarette into the ground. "He doesn't even want to get married, that little banshee is just pressuring him into it. He cheated on his last wife all the time, why would it be any different for Nikki?"

"Does it matter though, Vivienne? You're ruining –"

"Ruining what? The sanctity of their marriage?" Her rich laugh echoed in the parking lot. She turned to look Randy straight in the eye. "Well, look who's playing the good guy all of a sudden…I'm sorry Mister Orton but if you don't recall, we had a similar deal going on not too long ago."

"And if you don't recall, Miss Clarke, that deal resulted in an agonizingly painful divorce with Sam." He glared back down at the pair of heavily made-up eyes before him.

"Oh, stop being such a queen about it. I didn't make you tell your wife what was going on. _You _went and told her everything, and she wasn't even suspicious of us."

"I was tired of sneaking around. I just wanted to be able to-" Randy broke his gaze with the shorter, black-haired vixen. His usually deep and brash voice became uncharacteristically soft.

"And that's where I'm going to have to cut you off Randy." Her sultry voice commanded the rest of the conversation, and she knew it. Vivienne was wearing tall black heels and a new lingerie set underneath a silky robe. She always had a power trip when she was in lingerie and heels (and she found herself in this outfit often). "You screwed that up when you told your wife about me. What we had was simple. You got sex, I got money, clothes, cars, whatever. You wanted to throw your emotions into the mix and turn it into a relationship. And that got real messy, real fast."

She gave her words a moment to settle in the man's head before she smirked and continued on.

"Now, John knows how the game is played, and he knows how to keep his mouth shut. So don't get jealous of your friend because he's getting what you wish you could." And with those last words, she slipped a cigarette and lighter into his shirt pocket, patted the pocket twice, and sauntered back into the hotel lobby. The clicks of her heels were calculated; she asserted her dominance of with every step.

Randy closed his eyes and sighed into the cold night air.

It wasn't long before he reached for the cigarette and lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette.

Vivienne sighed as she rounded the corner back to her hotel room.

"Fuck" She muttered under her breath as she rested her forehead on her hotel room door. It didn't make much sense for her to even go back into the room. Her main-eventer has fled the building, and last year's main-event was outside, thinking god-knows-what about her.

She'd already won the battle; she couldn't go back to Randy begging for a lay. Besides, it would be more than a little game to get him in bed at this point; she'd have to actually work for it. Randy was upset; desperate to be with her, but not in the way she'd wanted.

And if there's anything one would need to know about Vivienne, it's that she always got what she wanted.


	2. A Night in the Life

The thought of being walked in on during the most intimate of acts could send someone into a panic. Being so vulnerable, and unable to speak, to think… being _naked_, in all senses of the word is a terrifying thought.

Vivienne however, never thought of it that way.

Vivienne reveled in the thought of making someone else uncomfortable. She saw the opportunity in every scenario to flip the tables and be in charge. Being a voyeuristic, power-hungry she-bitch has always been her thing.

When she was younger, she would go out of her way to find open areas to do the deed, with anyone who was willing. The sex was dangerous, but thrilling, it was an intensity that matched her own, and brought her to a new level every time. But she eventually grew out of her looser ways and became much more selective in deciding who shared her bed ( or shower, or car…) And as she grew more selective in her men, they all started to all seem the same:

They were handsome.

They were rich.

They were married.

And with money came power. And wherever power was, Vivienne was sure to follow.

"Jo, this isn't working out. I think I'm losing my touch. He hasn't answered his phone in days."

"You know, if you got a real job, this wouldn't be an issue. I could totally get you an interview. Don't say anything, but I heard that corporate is in dire need of a new interviewer. You've got the look for it, you could –"

"Joanna, I'm not in the mood to hear about a real job, or real opportunities, or real anything. I've already done my time in the WWE. What I'm doing now is making me more cash than I could ever possibly dream of. And that's the reality I'm living in."

Vivienne kicked off her heels and carelessly threw them into the passenger seat of her Bentley. The car was a few years old, so she wasn't nearly as protective of the interior leather as she was when she first got it. If her heels scuffed up the leather, she wasn't worried. She was anticipating John buying her a new car anyways. But with the recent turn of events she wasn't so sure… The purchase may have to be out of her own pocket.

"What you're doing is illegal, Viv. You could do some serious time if you get caught!"

Joanna wasn't referring to Vivienne's history of sugar-daddy/sugar-baby relationships. Joanna knew nothing of that lifestyle. Vivienne supplemented her income with a much more sinister profession.

"I won't get caught. I've been doing this for years. Never had a close call, cause I know how this whole operation works. The only way I'd get in trouble is if someone talked. And there's not one person I could think of who would do that to me."

"Well you're pretty damn confident."

"Always have been." Vivienne felt a pulsing vibration in her pocket. She pulled out another phone, and saw that someone had messaged her from an unknown number:

_U around? _

Vivienne started her car with the push of a button, a gentle purr signaled the engine was running smoothly. "Listen, I gotta get on the road, I'll call you when I reach Dallas."

"I'll meet you there. Careful on 290, there was an accident and traffic backed up for miles"

"Thanks, see you soon." Vivienne hung up and began to make her way out of the hotel's parking lot. Most of the WWE personnel had vacated the Austin, there was a show the next night in Dallas and most WWE staff knew the earlier you got to a city, the better. It meant you had more time to sleep in before another event.

Joanna was among one of WWE's personnel, she was one of the photo-journalists for the company. She used to travel with Vivienne from show to show, but ever since she found out what she did for a living, she insisted they were never caught in public together. Joanna couldn't afford to lose her job, she'd never been more in love with anything in her entire life.

_I'll be in Dallas in 3 hours. What do you need?_

She texted back on her phone before driving into the dark, busy roads ahead of her. She let out a long sigh and leaned back into the driver's seat. It was going to be a long night.

"You think I'm running a thrift shop here? I barely know who you are, there's no such thing as a discount with me. Now either you pay me in full now, or you can get out of here and stop wasting my time." Vivienne raised an eyebrow, her dark gaze never breaking away from his.

They had agreed to meet in Vivienne's hotel room; it was 2 floors above the floor most WWE personnel were staying, if they don't have enough for their own tour bus, that is. She always met in her room, for fear of too many people recognizing her face going in and out of various superstar's rooms.

Vivienne sat at a desk, with a glass of whiskey in one hand, and the other clutching protectively over a dark bulky briefcase that lay on the table before her.

"You've got a lot of nerve talking to me like that, little lady."

"And you've got even more nerve calling me 'little lady'." She stood and closed the gap between them. Even though Vivienne was wearing heels, she was able to comfortably meet the gaze of Nick Nemeth (Known by his fans as Dolph Ziggler).

"Take a seat, doll." Nick stifled a laugh before taking out his wallet, fanning through a few bills and handing a small stack to her. "Here's your chump change. I just thought a little cutie like yourself would be a little easier on your clients..."

"You couldn't afford one night with me, honey. Keep shopping though, I'm sure you'll find yourself a bargain bitch downstairs." She was referring to the gaggle of female wrestlers who were staying in the hotel rooms just below her.

Vivienne turned back to her briefcase, taking out a small vile with clear liquid. She takes the stack of bills and counts them before handing him the vile. "I'd offer you a needle, but I'm going to assume this isn't your first time with gym candy."

"You'd guess correctly. But don't expect to see me too often. That is, unless you decide to join the ranks of the bargain bitches downstairs." Nick smirked and inspected the small glass bottle of steroid.

"Well that's never happening."

"I'm going to the gym in a few. Mind if I…?" Nick took out a plastic case with syringes from his pocket.

"In the bathroom, please. I'm squeamish around needles." She sat back down, and rolled her eyes as he went to the bathroom .

"Isn't that ironic."

"Shut up."

Vivienne fought to keep her eyes open. Her eyelids were already heavy with the weight of her false lashes, the drive down to Dallas wasn't much help either. The drive was a longer one than she was expecting and Nick was the last person on her list to meet for the night, her patience and energy were running on empty.

"So why are you so picky? I'm good for the money you know." Nick's voice carried from the bathroom, he couldn't sound any more desperate.

"Does it fucking matter?"

Nick emerged from the bathroom with a smirk on his face, he looked down at Vivienne as he waved the used needle around tauntingly, before tossing it in the wastebasket at her feet. She cursed under her breath as the needle fell near her.

"When you decide you want to have a good time, you've got my number."

"Just get the fuck out." She locked her briefcase and slid it under her bed, kicking it away from sight.

With a chuckle Nick turned and left, already walking with the swagger of a bigger and stronger man. The juice must've gotten to his head already.

Vivienne let out a long, exasperated groan before collapsing on the hotel bed. She kicked off her black heels and hugged her pillow as she began to drift to sleep.

The unmistakable sound of her phone vibrating woke her up immediately. She reached over to the dresser and answered the phone without even opening her eyes to see who was calling.

"This better be worth it."

"Viv, we need to talk… I don't know how much Orton saw the other night, but he's one of the last people I'd want to know about us. Meet me in the lot in 10."


	3. What Goes Up, Must Come Down

She took longer than the anticipated ten minutes to get down to the parking lot, that was due, in large part to the fact that her feet were aching from the heels she had to click around in all day. She eventually got them on and made her way to the parking lot.

It was well into the night, so besides the standard parking lot lights scattered about overhead, Vivienne was not able to make out what was in the distance, or who, for that matter.

"Took you long enough." She heard a familiar smooth, deep voice emerge from behind her. "Thought you weren't going to show."

"Why wouldn't I?" Vivienne turned around and smiled at John. "I've been calling like crazy, you're the one who never answered."

"I couldn't answer…We don't want to make the misses suspicious." John took a step forward into the fluorescent glow of the light above them. He was wearing his signature baseball cap on, backwards, as well as a black wife beater and grey sweatpants. From the looks of it, he just came back from a workout, Vivienne could smell the sweat on his skin. "I'm not here to talk to you about that though. I'm here to talk to you about what happened the other night… What was up with Orton walking in like that?"

"I don't know, I don't care, and frankly, I don't think you should either. He's probably jealous of what's going on with us. I honestly can't blame him." Vivienne stepped forward and draped an arm on his shoulder, her night robe skillfully opening so that he could have a peek of what she's wearing underneath.

"Yeah, well he seemed a little too upset when he came in." John took one step back, leaving Vivienne's arm swinging back to her side. "I mean, I don't even know why he was there. You told me you two were done."

The black-haired vixen frowned.

"You know, if I didn't know any better I'd start to think you were jealous. And jealous is not good. We have a clear-cut deal here, Cena. If you go soft on me like Orton, we're going to have a problem."

"Believe me, Viv, I'm not jealous. I just need to know what the hell is going on so I don't get found out. If you're running some sort of sloppy operation here, I don't want any part in it. More dudes means more people know. And Nikki is the last girl I need to know about what's going on."

"Johnny, baby, you know I've got this shit sealed tight. Of course the bargain bitches are going to gossip, it's what they do. But they've got no evidence to back it up." She chuckled softly before reaching into her robe pocket and taking out a cigarette. "Besides, I don't even have enough time in my day to juggle more than one guy. With my other business up and running, there's no way I'd be awake right now. I feel like I'm working more than I did when I was actually a part of the roster."

She lit the cigarette and offered John one. He put his hands on his hips and sighed heavily. He wasn't convinced in the slightest.

"And what about Orton? What's stopping him from telling everyone that I'm fucking around on Nik with a drug-dealing –"

"Careful with your choice of words there, honey. I'm not fond of the 'p' word." Vivienne's voice dragged through the sentence, she was tired, and she was starting to lose grip of her façade.

"- A drug-dealing… woman." John finished. "You said it yourself, he's jealous. He sure as shit hasn't talked to me in days. Who knows if he's stirring up the pot backstage, and hinting at what's going on?"

"You ever wonder where I got my supply from?" Vivienne took a long drag from the cigarette. "Orton knows my secret, but I know his. He can get fired for what I know. Of course, I'm no longer buying from him, but I have more than enough evidence to show his hands are dirty. He's not willing to risk that for some petty revenge. You have nothing to worry about as long as I have my insurance."

John began to speak, but became rigid when he heard a clattering nearby. Vivienne stopped as well, and looked at John, raising a brow.

"What was that?" She mouthed.

John shrugged, before taking a quick glance behind him. He shook his head and sprinted past Vivienne. "I'm out. But I'll call you later." He whispered as he brushed past her and entered the hotel.

John left in a hurry, either he was afraid someone had heard their conversation, or he was skittish at night. Vivienne assumed to former and decided to follow the well-muscled man. Vivienne flicked her cigarette away and turned to sprint back into the building as well. However a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She lost her footing in her high heels and her feet and legs twisted awkwardly as they settled on the pavement.

The mystery assailant had caught Vivienne effortlessly before she fully descended, but her body dangled in their arms awkwardly like a ragdoll.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Vivienne knew that voice well, she looked up at the person who saved her from her fall.

"You son of a bitch! You scared me half to death!" She pushed out of the grasp, but felt a searing pain shoot up her leg. "Fuck!"

Doubled over in pain, she clutched onto her assailant's forearm. She was familiar with the sensation. Even though she had a very short stint in the WWE, Vivienne has sprained a good number of ankles, and broken two bones. Her technique was quite sloppy in the ring, so she often found herself on the receiving end of an injury.

"Shit, Viv are you okay?" He crouched down to take a look at her face, and the lights overhead allowed Vivienne to catch a glimpse of his striking face.

"Randy, I swear to fucking god if you fucked up my ankle I'm gonna-"

"Just be quiet. I'll carry you to your room... We'll go in through the back." He crouched slightly lower and scooped her up bridal style, and began to walk away from the main entrance.

Vivienne was used to this feeling of Randy's arms holding her. She felt secure, stable, safe. But she also felt his hands clutching onto her, never tightly enough for alarm, but just enough to show his vulnerability.

He needed her, and she hated that.

Vivienne sat up on her bed with her foot propped up on a pile of the hotel's pillows and a bag of ice on her ankle.

"This is the last thing I need right now, and of course it only happens when you creep out of the shadows. God, you're so pathetic." Her insult wasn't nearly as sharp as she meant it to be, her voice was slow and undeliberate. Her entire body was fighting sleep, but the pain of her ankle prevented her from completely dozing off.

"I'm sorry about your ankle. I really am."

Randy stood above her and glanced down at her ankle. She heard the sincerity in his voice, but also knew he had more to say. There had to have been a reason why he was in that parking lot at that time of night.

"But I need to know why the hell you told John I'm your supplier. You and I both know that's a damn lie, a lie that I don't need any idiots believing in. Especially not him."

Vivienne sighed and rolled her eyes back. "God, _when_ are you going to grow a pair? Who cares if he does gossip? No one can prove anything."

"They don't need to! If word about this gets out, I'm out of a job, and potentially a life! With the amount of shit you push, you could easily land me in jail if people think I'm the one supplying you." Randy paced over to the window and peered out of the curtain. He surveyed the parking lot below, as if someone were eavesdropping on their conversation.

Vivienne didn't respond. She simply stared at the man at her window with the lazy rendition of a smirk on her face. She could sense that heat, that anger that attracted her to Randy from the beginning.

"Whoever really _is_ the dumbass that's giving it to you is in for it if he's ever caught... And so are you."

Vivienne couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh, Orton, you have no idea." She rested her head on the headboard of the bed and closed her eyes. "The man that's supplying me is untouchable. And so am I."

"Well, I doubt you'll stay untouchable if you keep your shit laying out like this when you're not in your room." Randy gestured to the large black briefcase sitting on her desk.

"What are you even talking about, Orton? I hide it every time." She groaned as another wave of pain shot up from her ankle.

"You need to learn how to hide things a little better; leaving this in plain sight on your dresser is not smart."

"What?" Vivienne propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Randy, who was standing over her desk, with the black briefcase on top of it. "I kicked that under my bed before I left the room, there's no way it could be on my desk…"

She glared at the case before scrambling to it, she tried hard to mask the pain from her ankle as she limped over to the desk and opened the case.

Vivienne felt her knees give out, and the world around her began to spin. She would have dropped to the ground if Randy hadn't supported her limp body.

"Its gone… It's all… Gone


End file.
